


Reveille

by blehgah



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:41:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up with Hawke is certainly an experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reveille

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd or anything, sorry.

Anders is a morning person. He gets up with the morning sun, stretching and yawning. His shoulder bumps Hawke's and Fenris', earning a growl from the latter. The mage would growl back, but his throat's tight from sleep and even though he's awake, he's hardly got the energy for their usual back and forth. Their banter is second nature to him now, but at this point, it lacks the vitriol it initially had. Somehow, that animosity has slowly been replaced with fondness, even affection, despite the unusual delivery.

If he's honest, it's the dog at his feet that gives him the most trouble as he rolls out of bed. It whines and paws at his legs. Even though Anders is _definitely_ a cat person, he doesn't mind Hawke's mabari. It's... cute in its own way.

Isabela immediately takes up his place in the crook of Hawke's arm. She rolls over Merrill and secures the spot before anyone else can notice. Despite the movement and possibly crushing weight, Merrill doesn't make a peep, much to Anders' surprise.

The blood mage smacks her lips and nuzzles her head closer to Hawke's neck.

It's hard to believe anything that he's seeing, Anders muses as he pulls his boots on, even after all this time. Although he's slow to admit it, he finds himself taking his time leaving the house in order to put off leaving his lovers behind.

Multiple lovers. Maker's breath.

For all that he used to be a flirt, he never could have imagined that this would be his future.

Fenris' tattoos glow faintly as Anders approaches him. The sleeve of his jacket is caught under the elf's shoulder. Anders tries to be gentle as he tugs on it and he's relieved when he frees it without a fuss.

The first time they all spent the night together, Fenris' tattoos glowed as bright as a beacon. Apparently having three mages acting as stimulus activates the lyrium etched into his skin. There had been worry about discomfort, but Fenris had insisted he was fine. Until now, there haven't been any complaints, so Anders just has to trust his word.

Justice is fascinated by the markings, but Fenris really doesn't need to know that. If there's anything Anders will tell Fenris about Justice, it's that Justice believes in the plight of slaves and wishes to aid him as well.

The spirit in his mind compensates for the absence of energy in the early morning. It disorients his vision at first, but he's used to it. If he were back in Darktown, there'd be less of a chance for incidents since he knows the layout of his clinic so well, but getting used to Hawke's manor is a sacrifice he's very willing to make.

Once his vision clears, he takes one last look at his lovers, trying to commit the image to memory. Warmth blooms in his chest and he can't help but smile. The smile lingers on his lips even as he finally exits the house and starts his long walk to Darktown.

This is right.

* * *

Merrill gets up next. She's used to being up and about early-- mostly to avoid the crawl of vermin over her body. Instead, here in this warm and welcoming home, the only thing she needs to worry about is a twitchy pirate queen and a dog. The other three occupants are not so aggressive, much to her surprise. Fenris sleeps like a log and hardly moves; Anders is a light sleeper, but he isn't prone to acting on the occasional disturbance.

She takes her time waking up. The sun slowly rises higher into the sky, but it's still pretty early. Her eyes squint as she checks outside the window. What a gorgeous view. Imagine if Hawke put a nice bed of flowers in that sill; a small improvement, but there's always room for that, despite the luxury the manor already offers.

She sits up against the headboard to examine her bedmates. Surprisingly, Hawke doesn't wear the face paint to sleep. He looks even more naked, if that were possible. The chest hair kind of makes up for it. It's a layer of protection on its own.

Anders' absence is noted, but Merrill understands. Injury doesn't wait until morning, but Anders is not a machine and even he needs rest. Hopefully his patients have been - she smiles to herself - _patient_ in the time that he's been away. She would offer to help, but unfortunately, healing magic is outside of her area of expertise.

Had she remained as Sabrae's First, she would have learned spirit healing to aid her clan when the need arose. But if she had remained as their First, she wouldn't be here, and she wouldn't be happy.

Happy. She can hardly believe it.

Merrill bounds out of bed with renewed energy. She gives the remaining bedmates a kiss on the forehead, or the nose or cheek if she can't reach their forehead, and gives the dog a pat before getting dressed.

She's covered in dog fur instead of bug legs and she's so happy she can barely believe it. This is right.

* * *

Hawke wakes up next. His left side is empty and it throws off the usual balance in their bed formation. Figures; Isabela loves to be the little spoon, and that position includes being the filling in any given sandwich as well. She must have moved when the early-risers left for the day.

Despite Fenris' small stature, he makes a pretty good big spoon. His face is buried in Isabela's neck and Hawke wonders if he enjoys the constant smell of seasalt locked in her hair.

All of Hawke's lovers carry a unique scent with them. Anders holds a small hint of the fade in his robes, and it's almost enough to distract Hawke from the concoction of smells Darktown provides. Merrill's aroma is a curious mixture of blood and flowers. Isabela smells of the sea, and alcohol, and sex.

One day they ought to all take a bath together... What a disaster that would be, and the mere thought of it brings a wide grin to Hawke's lips.

Isabela's grip is tight around his waist, her palm warm against his skin. She has a death grip as she sleeps. Hawke likes to think of it as protective; clutching onto something precious even as she sleeps. He sure isn't going anywhere any time soon.

Fenris, surprisingly, is gentle in comparison. His touch is always feather-light; cautious, probing. He's timid in bed. None of them have found reason to question this aloud and treat him just the same. His skin is sensitive to the mages' magic, which means Isabela has the privilege of being the most forward, much to her delight.

Something tickles Hawke's leg and he has to stifle a laugh. Both Fenris' toes and his dog's nose have decided that his ankles are particularly interesting. Soon, the bed is shaking as Hawke tries to suppress his laughter.

Isabela groans and throws a hand in Hawke's direction. It lands on his chest, prompting a laugh to escape from his mouth.

"Shut up," she mumbles, reaching higher this time. She swats at Hawke's face, but he dodges, still laughing.

"Don't make me kick the dog," Hawke whispers, "They're tickling my feet."

"Who?" Isabela cracks an eye open and looks up at Hawke. "Kick the dog, I don't care. You're making too much noise."

Hawke clicks his tongue and pokes Isabela's side. She jerks her arm in response, catching him on the chest again.

"Figures a Rivaini wouldn't know how precious dogs are. Can you believe that? As if I'd kick my dog. I'd kick you first."

"Then I'd shank you, and then where would we be? The dog would be a lonely mutt." Sighing, Isabela resigns herself to rubbing her eyes. "Guess I'm awake now."

"Want breakfast?" Hawke offers.

On the far side of the bed, Fenris murmurs something incoherent. He shuffles closer to Isabela, coaxing a laugh from her scratchy throat.

"Fenris, stop, you're tickling me," she giggles.

"I bet you it's the lyrium," Hawke suggests, extending his reach to gather Fenris into his arms, "Reacting to my magic and making us itch. What a terrible bedfellow."

"Hawke," Fenris complains as he's moved, "What're you doing."

"My other side's cold and lonely," Hawke whines.

"Get the mage to cast a fire spell."

"You say that as if I wasn't a mage."

Fenris murmurs a protest, his eyes still closed. "You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid the other two mages have already left the building," Hawke informs him.

First Fenris' brow furrows, then he's cracking his eyes open fractionally. A stray hand reaches up to rub at his eyes before he blinks them open further. "Already?"

"You know how they are, love," Isabela adds, "There aren't enough hours in the day for Anders to complain about the plight of mages. And Merrill's attracted to the sound of birds singing first thing in the morning."

With a quiet, defeated sigh, Fenris rests his cheek on Hawke's chest. "Is she safe going out into Hightown in the middle of the day?"

"Varric should have his people watching her back," Hawke replies, "but if you want to track her down, you're welcome to."

Fenris drums his fingers against Hawke's stomach contemplatively.

Hawke scoffs. "You're not fooling anyone. If you really wanted to get out of bed, you would have done so already."

Fenris curls his hand into a fist and raps Hawke's stomach. Hawke gives a wheezing laugh in response.

Sharing his bed with Fenris has revealed one surprise after another. At first, Fenris had been hesitant to pursue a sexual relationship with them. They'd assumed the reason was that he couldn't handle being with more than one person at once, and they respected that decision. However, their assumption was just that: an assumption. In truth, the physical stimulus had drawn hidden memories to his conscious mind and it scared him.

Getting him to lower his walls regarding that issue has been a long process, but well worth it.

Once he felt he could trust his mind and his body to his lovers, he returned to their bed. They'd been gentle, and he was grateful. His body continued to react to the magic present in the three mages, but thanks to their hushed reassurances and careful caresses, his mind remained undisturbed.

He slept so well that night. And late into the next morning as well. That was when Hawke discovered that Fenris likes to sleep in.

Fenris had been robbed of the luxury when on the run. Working with Hawke meant security; sleeping with more than one person increased that safety by leagues' worth. His body needs rest from the taxing lyrium tracks running through his body, and they're all happy to let him indulge.

Isabela just likes to sleep. She's more of a night owl, anyway.

"What was that about breakfast, Hawke?" Isabela asks as she shoos away Fenris' vengeful hand.

"The offer's still on the table." Hawke snatches Fenris' wrist and holds it away from his stomach. "But just for you, Isabela. This one's being a bit of a prick, isn't he?"

"Fenris has never been good with mornings."

"Doesn't mean he has to get violent."

"Hawke, it's _Fenris_. That's just who he is."

"Still doesn't mean he deserves breakfast."

Fenris grunts and snakes his hand out of Hawke's grip. "You started it," he declares.

"I did what now?" Hawke turns towards Fenris and noses his ear. Fenris responds with an alarmed noise in the base of his throat. "Started what? What was that?"

"Hawke!" Fenris squirms away from Hawke's beard, but Hawke is quick to hold him in place.

"What, can't handle the truth, Fenris? If you were really worried about Merrill, you would have followed her out," Hawke continues his assault on Fenris' face with his scratchy beard, "Maker knows you actually trust her and just wanted to stay in bed and have me make you breakfast."

Gasping for breath, Fenris beats at Hawke's chest. He's holding back laughter and his shoulders are shaking. "Hawke, stop!"

"Admit it! You want to be coddled."

"Hawke!"

Meanwhile, Isabela has already broken down into helpless giggles at Hawke's side.

"Ugh, alright! I-- I enjoy... Your affection. Now will you stop?!"

Humming, Hawke pulls Fenris up to eye-level. He catches Fenris' gaze before capturing his lips in a brief kiss.

"What do you want to eat, love?"

"Let's have eggs," Isabela suggests. She inches closer to Hawke, and he can tell she's trying to roll into the tiny space between himself and Fenris.

Before she can make her move, Hawke sits up. The remaining bedmates exchange glances. Unfortunately, their reaction isn't quick enough: Hawke scoops them up by the waist and launches out of bed.

"Hawke!" they squawk at the same time.

"We'll never get to eat if all you can do is roll around in bed," Hawke replies, steadily striding towards the bedroom door.

"But that's what I'm best at, Hawke. And looking pretty."

"And stabbing people in the back," Fenris slips in.

Isabela sticks her tongue out at him. "That too. Does this mean we're gonna have eggs, Hawke?"

"Yes, yes, we'll have eggs. Eggs and toast and ham and whatever else is down there."

"Just don't use magic on the food this time," Fenris says. His arms are a dangly, lanky display protruding from his shoulders.

"Fine, ruin all the fun."

They're halfway down the stairs when Bodahn yelps.

"M-Master Hawke!" the dwarf exclaims, "Will you please put some pants on?"

Hawke, Isabela, and Fenris all look down at the same time. With two other people watching his back, Hawke would have hoped that at least one of them would have made sure he wouldn't traumatize his housekeeper with nudity first thing in the morning.

Laughing, Hawke collapses onto the floor, taking his bedmates with him. He absolutely must tell Anders and Merrill about all this when they return. It'd only be right.


End file.
